Got Me Wrong
by Killer Moth
Summary: Deep Vote ficlet. Jack grants a secret wish for Abbie on her final day. If you’re a Clerks fan, double bonus, then.


Disclaimer: All rights belong to Wolf Films.

Author's Note: A Leap Year fic inspired from a "Clerks II" scene. Or, it's a belated Valentine's Day fic, whichever you prefer.

Timeline: The day prior to "Deep Vote"'s final scene.

--

"Well, that's the last one." Jack McCoy sealed up a paper crate. He then stretched out, surveying the now vacant room.

Its occupant, Abbie Carmichael, rolled up beside him. "Hey, thanks for doing this while I was busy with last minute paperwork."

"Call it irony for my stepping over these things, way back when."

"At least, you didn't trip over them."

He massaged the hair on the back of his head. "That would have been the crowning touch, now, wouldn't it?"

She gazed at the stripped area and beamed wistfully. "Of course. So, what do you think will happen to this place?"

"My guess — they'll turn it into a file room or another office."

Her eyebrow ridge was at the bottom. "That sounds about right."

"Well, Ms. Carmichael," his arms were akimbo. "Tomorrow is your last day with us, so what would you like to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, come on, there's got to be something you always wanted to do, but never could."

"Well, I've always wanted to sleep with you." She angled forward.

His mouth was wide open. "Abbie, I…."

"I'm kidding, you degenerate."

Jack's hand was on his chest. "Some joke."

"Hey, I waited three years to use it." Abbie pulled backward, smiling puckishly.

"Was it worth it?"

"Yes, but that wasn't my actual request."

He swallowed anxiously. "It wasn't?"

"Jack, don't flatter yourself."

"Hey, you're the one that made the 'sleeping around' joke. So, my bruised ego aside, what was it that you want?"

She stroked her jaw. "There _is_ one thing."

He blushed. "Am I going to regret this?"

"Probably, but I wouldn't do this if I didn't trust you completely." She extended her palms.

"Then, I can't possibly refuse."

"You could, but would you want to?"

--

The following day, District Attorney Nora Lewin promenaded into Jack's shady office. He and Abbie were seated closely together.

"Jack, do you have the Senator Benton file? I want to double check on our informant's testimony."

"Sure." He handed her a manila folder.

"Thank you." Abruptly, she sniffed the air around her. "Do you smell that?"

"Smell what?" Abbie said.

"It smells like… nail polish."

"That's because it _is_ nail polish; I asked Jack if he could paint my toenails for me."

Nora's pupils contracted. "But, Abbie, I've never known you to use nail polish."

The younger woman compressed her lips. "That's because I was being facetious. I placed my attaché case on a secretary's desk earlier today, and she accidentally spilled a new brand of toner on it."

"So, today, you've been dragging around a case with a nice pungent stench."

"If you don't believe me, here's exhibit one, if you want a whiff for yourself." Abbie was reaching for her black briefcase when her boss suddenly gripped her shoulders.

"That's fine. I don't want your last day marred by my… smelling your case." A flushed Nora lightly released her grasp.

"Alright, then."

"What about you?" She glanced at a pokerfaced Jack.

"I have nothing to say on the matter."

Her eyebrow shot up. "Nothing?"

"Unless you want to inspect Abbie's feet to verify her story." He elevated his chin.

Nora did a headshake and returned to the doorframe. "I can just imagine the headlines if this were to be leaked: 'D.A. inspects departing assistant's feet over bizarre odor.' Finish up your documents, and I'll treat you both to dinner."

"Thank you, Nora."

"Thanks, Nora."

She shut the door, sighing to herself. A moment later, Abbie positioned her bare feet onto Jack's lap. Cotton balls were set between each digit, with only three right foot toenails painted red.

The senior produced a bottle of nail polish from his trouser pocket. "I can't believe she bought it. By the way, nice color choice — red really compliments your skin tone."

"Thanks. And I can't believe we went through it with a straight face. I almost lost it when you told her to inspect my feet."

His brow furrowed. "I'm just as amazed as you are. Of course, I knew she'd back off, because the truth sounds so completely ridiculous. My only real concern is your attempt at subterfuge: sealing my outer office windows and painting your bag with the nail polish. As Nora said, 'you've been dragging around a case with a nice pungent stench.' So, was it worth it?"

She cocked her cranium. "You know about image, Jack. I don't think the higher-ups would approve of you doing my toenails on company time, and imagine the office rumors. My briefcase was a small price to pay to throw people off the scent, so to speak. So, to answer your question, yes, it was."

"Your tight logic will serve you well in your new job, Counselor." He untwisted the top, leering at her. "I must really like you, if I'm doing this."

"Like I said — I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't trust you completely."

He delicately dabbed her pinky toe with the cap's brush. "I'll miss you, too, Abbie."

--

Leave me a review if you wish, and I'll see you in the funny papers.


End file.
